Soul of a Samurai

A week had passed.

My father was still not home.

I didn't know how long he was supposed to be gone, but I had never seen him leave for this long before. Usually, it was a few days—two or three at most. This time, the house felt emptier, quieter, despite my mother's presence.

She didn't say much about it. She never spoke her worries aloud, but I could tell she was thinking about him. The way she occasionally glanced at the door, the way her hands lingered on tasks as if she needed to keep busy.

Still, life went on.

And I had changed, even in this short time.

I could walk now—really walk.

It wasn't perfect. My steps were still slow and sometimes unsteady, but I could move around the house without crawling, without needing to grab onto things for support. It felt freeing in a way I couldn't describe.

I explored more, wandered through the house at my own pace, touching things I hadn't been able to reach before. The floor didn't seem as big anymore, and the walls weren't as far away. The world around me was shrinking, or maybe I was just growing.

One of the best things that happened this week was—pasta.

My mother made it one evening, something different from the usual meals. The smell filled the house, warm and rich, and when she finally set a small portion in front of me, I couldn't stop eating.

It was good.

Soft but chewy, covered in something savory and slightly salty. I didn't know what it was called at first, but after my mother saw how much I liked it, she chuckled.

"You like pasta, Kyojin?"

I made a small noise of approval, my mouth too full to say anything else.

She smiled. "I'll make it again sometime."

That made me happy.

Despite my growing independence, I still found comfort in one thing—sleeping in my mother's arms.

Sometimes, I would fall asleep on the floor or in the corner of the house after wandering around, but nothing felt better than curling up against her warmth. She would hum softly, her hand brushing over my head, and I would drift off easily.

The house felt different without my father, but at least my mother was here.

And for now, that was enough.